


The Littlest Lynel

by Zephyreon



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Feral Behavior, Feral Link, Hurt/Comfort, Other, sick Link
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyreon/pseuds/Zephyreon
Summary: God, it feels good to post again. Those that know me from the SPN fandom know I've been off the grid for at least two years, and those unfinished works still haunt me. I still have the files, but they were written my senior year of high school, and their flaws become more evident the older they get. While I'm not saying I won't ever get back to them, I am saying that I'm not working on them right now and don't know when I will.Kudos and comment to apply positive reinforcement, plz and thank





	1. Chapter 1

It was raining, as it often did in her territory. While it might have suited the strange fish-people whose territory neighbored her own, she didn’t care for it in the slightest and shook her head as yet another runnel of water ran into her eye. She took as much shelter as she could beneath a large pine tree, but its skinny needles offered little protection from the unrelenting downpour and dowsed her every time it was shaken by the wind.

Were she alone she would move, try to find more substantial protection elsewhere, but with the ache of kitting still sharp and fresh in her rear, and the scent of birth still so strong in the air, she would not move from her post and expose the den underneath her to the cold and wet. Though her udder was sore from being so full, the kit beneath her wouldn’t latch. Her instincts told her that it was too still and too small, its birth too early, but she hadn’t had time to inspect it between kitting and having to protect it from the fierce storm, so there was still a chance it was alive.

Sounds from her right suddenly drew her attention and her mane bristled as she picked up the scent of blood. A growl rose in her throat as something drew close, and though her ability to defend herself was diminished in her current state, she knew she could still easily take on almost anything that came along. Only another lynel could potentially give her trouble, but she had dug her birthing den in a spot as far away from other lynels as she could find and would have known had one crossed into her territory and immediately fought it off.

She drew herself up on her front legs, making herself seem more imposing, and stopped short when a tiny, two-legged thing stumbled into the clearing. Its body was covered in a plain cloth garment, possibly to make up for the lack of fur save the golden shock on top of its head, and its long ears were pinned down in fear as it turned to watch the way it had come from. Though she had seen the two-legged creatures before as they traveled the path at the edge of her territory, she had never seen one so close as there weren’t any of their settlements nearby, nor had she seen one so small. She barked out a cautious warning, and something strange inside her clenched when it whipped around to face her and let out a high-pitched whine like that of a frightened kit. Rain welled up in its eyes as it trembled and shook, and the acrid stink of urine suddenly burned the inside of her nose.

It struck her then that a frightened kit was exactly what she was looking at, that she was the cause of its distress, and immediately lowered herself back down. She allowed her mane to flatten out and chuffed at the kit before her, trying to coax it closer. For a moment it didn’t move, but the sound of something else approaching spurred it into motion and it darted towards her with a cry of fear. She shifted her lower body to expose the den’s entrance and the kit needed no encouragement to wriggle inside next to hers. The feeling of a small, warm body underneath hers had her protective instincts surging forward, furious at whatever would try and harm a defenseless kit and ready to kill.

Another two-legged thing entered the clearing, and it seemed to not notice her as it searched for the kit. She remained still as she watched her prey, the striped pattern of her coat camouflaging her with the dark, moonless woods around her, allowing it to draw closer to its death. It was cloaked in red with a strange mask covering its face and held a circular blade in one hand that she could still smell blood on, further provoking her ire.

When the foul creature was stood in front of her she made her move, bellowing out a great roar that shook the trees and ground. The pathetic thing before her screamed and slashed at her with its blade as she seized it in her paws. Her thick hide meant it couldn’t do much more than scratch her, and she relished the taste of its blood as she tore into its neck. It thrashed in her grip for a few moments, its struggles slowly weakening, before finally going limp and its weapon slipping from its grasp.

The rain began to abate as she tossed the carcass aside; she would dispose of it more thoroughly later, but before it started to smell. Normally she wouldn’t be one to pass up a meal, especially one that had come to her so willingly, but she could remember having eaten one of those things before, when she herself had been but a kit, and knew the meat to be lean and stringy.

She watched the thing for a moment to ensure it was dead and wouldn’t attack again, before standing and turning to inspect the kits in her den. The golden-haired kit eyed her warily as it pushed itself into one of the corners of the den, but the other made no motions at all. She mewled as she nosed at its limbs in an effort to find life, but the kit remained still. Despite her best efforts she could find no scent on it other than her own and that of the afterbirth, and it was cold under her nose. With a soft whine she pulled away from it, taking in its small form, and started when she felt a tiny paw clumsily rubbing at her nose. The golden kit pulled back a little when she turned to it, but slowly reached back out to run its paw through her thick mane, as if sensing her grief and trying to ease it.

Gently, so as to not spook it, she gathered the kit in her arms and pulled it in close to groom it. It squeaked in fear and struggled at first but calmed as she purred to it, rubbing her nose in its fur as she scented and familiarized herself with her kit. There was something very not-lynel about it, which she ignored in favor of trying to lay her own scent on as thickly as possible, along with the soft, milky scent of a kit that was still nursing. An affectionate purr rumbled in her chest when it let out an affronted squawk as she dragged her tongue through its fur, careful of the rough barbs near its tender skin.

A sudden crack of thunder overhead startled the kit and she found herself crooning to it to try and soothe its upset. With the first kit dead, she knew that it would soon start to smell and would attract scavengers if left open to the air. Quickly, wanting to get ahead of the approaching storm, she stood with the other kit in her arms and used her back legs to shovel earth into the old den. She whined at the sharpened ache in her backside, but persisted until the den was completely filled in and the kit was buried deep enough to not draw scavengers. More thunder rumbled as she trudged further into her territory, searching for a new den site, and she chuffed in pleasure as she found one under a tree with a wide canopy of red leaves. It took her only a moment to dig a new den with her front legs, and the kit in her arms went easily as she tucked it inside.

Her udder throbbed as she settled over it to start grooming the blood out of her coat, forcing her to stop and whine as some of her milk was forcefully ejected from sheer pressure. She wasn’t sure how long her body would continue to produce milk for a kit, especially if it wasn’t alive to drink it, but she hoped it would quit soon because she was already almost too sore to move. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of a mouth feeling for her teat and then latching on when it reached its goal. She grunted in relief as the kit started to drink, easing the aching pressure, and resumed cleaning herself.

As she licked at her wounds she could feel the kit gradually slowing down as it tired out, and suddenly found herself trying to bite back a yawn. It was beyond time for her to rest, even without taking into account her kitting and the excitement of the past hour, and she was tempted to follow her kit’s example. With another yawn she resigned herself to sleep, circling the den and settling herself over it so that she would know if the kit awoke and needed her.

As the first feeble rays of dawn shone through a sudden break in the storm clouds, she grumbled in displeasure and could already tell she wasn’t going to get much rest. Knowing kits, she only had until morning before hers was hungry again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, it feels good to post again. Those that know me from the SPN fandom know I've been off the grid for at least two years, and those unfinished works still haunt me. I still have the files, but they were written my senior year of high school, and their flaws become more evident the older they get. While I'm not saying I won't ever get back to them, I am saying that I'm not working on them right now and don't know when I will. 
> 
> Kudos and comment to apply positive reinforcement, plz and thank


	2. Chapter 2

“Sire?” Sidon looked up from his map of the Lanayru region and almost groaned at the sight of yet another scout delivering what was sure to be bad news. He had received more reports of monster activity in the past few weeks than in all of his time as commander of the Zora army, and nothing he did seemed to do anything to remedy the situation. Without rearranging anything on his desk he could lay hands on reports of lizalfos at the river’s mouth, mobins by Oren bridge and a lynel at the peak of Mount Ploymus. “Scouts along the road have found evidence of a lynel moving into Zora territory. Reports have it located just north of the old Sheika tower, in the Tabahl woods.”

“A lynel?” Sidon repeated, not wanting to believe his ears, “What kind? Do you know?”

“A white-maned, sire.” Sidon scrubbed a hand down his face as he considered his options. While all lynels were generally vicious and foul-tempered creatures, white-maned lynels were the worst of the three types, as well as the strongest. They were fiercely territorial, and weren’t afraid to take on anything that they felt was a threat. With the Tabahl woods so close to the only road leading in and out of the Domain, a lynel settling down there could jeopardize the Zora’s already unstable trade system since it would no doubt try and attack anyone who tried to come by land.

“Thank you, I will bring this up with my father at once.” Sidon said, dismissing Bazz so that he could try and gather his wits to think of what to do. “If you would alert the guards at the river’s mouth, I would be most appreciative. We should probably discourage travelers until this can be resolved.”

“At once, sire.” Bazz bowed once and dashed off, leaving Sidon alone with his thoughts. A claim as serious as a lynel wasn’t something that one simply slept on, regardless of whether or not the creature had been sighted. If it turned out to be true then measures to eradicate it would need to be taken, but if proven false then nothing was lost beyond the time it took to trek out to where it was supposed to be. As such, Sidon donned his best armor from his wardrobe and pulled a spear from the rack sitting nearby.

As he passed other Zora in the halls on his way to his father’s throne room they all instinctively got out of his way, some going so far as to drop their gaze. Sidon was intimidating to most on a regular day, what with his sheer size, but that coupled with the seriousness of the matter at hand and the fact he was wearing full battle armor made him quite the imposing figure. He winced when one person jumped back out of his path and into a coral arrangement, knocking it over and sending pieces of it skittering across the floor, but he didn’t have time to stop and apologize.

Dorephan was in the middle of speaking with Mipha about some matter or another when he mounted the steps to the throne room, and their conversation fell dead when they saw him.

“Sidon?” Mipha said, taking in his armor with a furrow in her brow. “Is something wrong?”

“My scouts have brought reports to me of another lynel in the Tabahl woods, a white-maned, and I was just on my way out to go investigate the claims. I thought I might let you know before I left so you would know in case I fail to return.”

“A lynel in the Tabahl woods? How in Hyrule did it get so far upstream before anyone noticed it?” Dorephan asked.

“I’m not sure, but it must be looked into nevertheless. I will, of course, report back with whatever I find.” Sidon bowed once to his father, then to his sister who bowed back, and tried not to worry as he turned and left. The guards outside stood at attention as he passed, and he waved them off as they moved to follow him down into the river. With one graceful dive he was in the water and off like a shot, navigating the currents with ease. Within minutes he was pulling himself onto cold, rocky ground near the Bank of Wishes, resisting the urge to shake himself off so as to not rattle his armor and stay undetected.

Once Sidon reached the road he paused for a moment to take a look around, and the longer he stood there the more evidence jumped out from the pines around him, further sinking the stone in his gut. Tufts of fur caught in bushes and brambles, deep gouge marks scarring the trunks of trees, and an overwhelming, acrid stench of urine from it scent-marking its territory were all indicators that there was in fact a lynel in the area and that it was incredibly active. Sidon grimaced, as he knew that the lynel would not be removed without great difficulty, but before he could work further into the woods, a shock of bright golden hair emerging from a bush just down the road caught his eye, followed by a small, skinny body a moment later.

Though not many made the trip out to the Domain, Sidon knew a Hylian when he saw one, and he also knew that they typically wore clothes when they were out and about. The child before him, who couldn’t have been older than seven or eight, was as naked as the day they were born and seemed to not care as they rooted around for mushrooms in the fallen pine needles. As Sidon watched, lynel momentarily forgotten, they came across a cluster of razor-shrooms at the base of a tree and squealed in joy, enthusiastically uprooting and inspecting each one.

“Little one, you need to come with me. There is a lynel around and it’s not safe.” Sidon called, breaking the dead silence of the forest around him, and was taken aback at the wild, animalistic look in the child’s eyes as their head snapped to attention. For a moment time itself stood still as both parties stared each other down, and then before Sidon could blink the little Hylian was off, abandoning his treasures as he ran away with the speed of something possessed. Sidon swore and took off after them, throwing his weapon to the ground as he struggled to keep up and not lose his quarry.

Gold hair zigged and zagged through the underbrush and pine trees in a desperate attempt to lose Sidon, and as he panted and heaved in his efforts he realized he was outmatched. Though Sidon was not a terrestrial creature, and would always have some disadvantage when it came to land-based maneuvers, he was still a formidable opponent who could fight in either domain and come away unscathed. However, it was becoming apparent that the child he was giving chase to was no more accustomed to civilization than they were to clothing, and had the raw survival instincts of a wild animal that meant they would run until they collapsed from exhaustion.

He caught up a minute or two later when the child found themselves cornered by a sudden sharp curve in the geography that left them backed up against a steep drop to the river below with nowhere to go but past Sidon. He thanked the Goddess as he stopped to catch his breath, clenching his fist in an attempt to not throw up, and eyed the child to try and figure out how to proceed. If he had judged the distance accurately then they were almost right in the middle of the lynel’s territory, just beside a large swath of clear, flat land Sidon would bet money on housing the lynel’s den. It was the most dangerous place for either of them to be, and both of their lives were in grave danger the longer they stuck around.

“Please, child we have to get out of here.” Sidon pleaded, extending a hand toward the child. They crouched down into a defensive position on all fours, baring their blunt little teeth in a display of fear and aggression with their ears pinned down. Off to his left Sidon could hear something approaching, something _large,_ and the child’s ears twitched as they registered the noise, temporarily forgetting Sidon as they listened. To his absolute horror the child began crying out, high-pitched, desperate little noises reminiscent of an infant crying for their mother that let the lynel know exactly where they were.

At that moment Sidon knew his only means of escape was into the river, but as he took a step forward the child suddenly remembered he was there and scuttled backwards a few inches, losing their footing on the wet rocks and falling into the raging water with a cry of fear. The unmistakable call of a lynel rattled the forest, but Sidon paid it no mind as he covered the short distance and dove into the river after them, suddenly aching for the nice, warm pool in his rooms.

The lynel roared again as the two of them left it behind, but Sidon paid it no mind as he raced to catch up to the struggling, flailing child. It was apparent that they had no swim instincts whatsoever, as they fought against the current instead of working with it as they desperately tried to keep their head above water. With one final push Sidon surged forward, pulling the child in to his chest with one arm and grabbing the shoreline with the other. For a moment he feared his shoulder was going to be torn from its socket as his fingers found purchase and he was wrenched in two directions, but the joint held and Sidon was able to heave himself and the child up onto shore. The forest was silent as the both of them panted for breath and coughed up river water, exhaustion pulling at Sidon’s bones. Beside him, the child coughed and sputtered and cried in fright, and Sidon could only hope they were far enough downstream to be out of the lynel’s territory.

A sudden hoof-step, explosively loud in the quiet and a mere feet from where the pair of them lay, drove a hot spike of fear deep into Sidon’s gut. He cautiously raised his gaze from where it rested between his forearms and inhaled sharply when he encountered the massive hoof of a lynel. At such a close range he had absolutely no advantage whatsoever, and the lynel would have no trouble ending Sidon right then and there if it so chose to. Out of instinct he reached for the small dagger at his belt and the lynel let out a sharp warning growl, rather than attacking him, and Sidon went stock-still, as if doing so would spare his life.

Sidon watched in horror as the lynel turned its attention to the child, sure that he was about to watch them be torn apart, but was gobsmacked as it instead gingerly crouched down and chuffed at them. For a moment they resisted as the lynel nuzzled and scented at them but warmed up quickly when they realized what was happening. Sidon was seemingly forgotten by both parties as they threw themselves at the lynel, still crying and shaking but clearly seeking (and receiving!) comfort from the monstrous beast. They went willingly as the lynel gathered them up into its arms and just about buried themselves in its thick mane in their efforts to get close. The noises coming from the lynel as it fretted and fussed over the Hylian were downright motherly, and Sidon was sure that even if he did live long enough to relay the sight before him no one would believe that such a violent, aggressive creature would be capable of such soft, tender noises.

When the Hylian had finally calmed down enough to start stop crying, the lynel turned to Sidon barked out a single, sharp snarl before turning and disappearing around a curve in the land. Sidon waited until he could no longer see the lynel before frantically pushing himself up off the ground and diving back into the river. Dorephan needed to be informed of the situation, but more importantly Sidon needed to get out of the lynel’s territory. Sidon was smart enough to recognize that the only reason he still drew breath was because he had saved the life of the little Hylian the lynel obviously held so dear, and had thus been given his own life in return. Under any other circumstances it would have without a doubt engaged and attacked, and Sidon wasn’t foolish enough to think that his good deed would merit so much restraint if they met for a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't expect the next chapter to be completed in any kind of timely fashion and neither should you. However I do know what needs to happen and where it needs it end, so it should be done...maybe not soon, but it definitely won't take three (3) years to put out.
> 
> Kudos and comment to help me bridge the crippling serotonin and dopamine gaps in my brain


	3. Chapter 3

As she held her kit close to her chest, she didn’t think her two hearts would ever stop pounding so furiously. She could hear the loud beat in her ears as if another lynel were stomping their hooves right next to her head, and she was certain it would disturb the kit from the sleep they had fallen into. But even though they stirred fitfully as she covered the distance back to their den, the kit didn’t wake and stayed asleep as she lay down in the large scoop of earth she’d dug for herself, whimpering quietly as she briefly pulled the kit away from her to settle them in the nest of furs between her forelegs. The kit quieted as they snuggled back up to her body heat, and it was hard to deny the swell of relief as she felt their small body next to hers.

With her white mane it wasn’t often that she was struck with true fear, as it meant that there were few things that were truly a threat to her, but seeing her kit fall into the water had made her afraid like she hadn’t been in a long time. The only incident she could compare it to was when she herself had been a kit, and the male lynel who neighbored her mother’s territory had attempted to kill her. Had he succeeded her mother would have gone back into heat in a few days time, allowing him to mate with her and forcing her to raise _his_ kit instead. At the time she wasn’t yet fully weaned and had no real way to protect herself; though it had been many, many moons since, she could still recall the paralyzing fear she’d felt as she’d cowered in her den, certain that her mother would lose the fight to protect her and she would meet her end in the male’s maw.

But it was different now that it was her own kit who’d been in danger and, unlike her mother, there hadn’t been anything she could have done to save them. She wasn’t built for swimming and was too heavy to float, and neither could the kit since they had picked up on her aversion to water and wouldn’t voluntarily get in it. If the red Zora hadn’t shown up and stepped in when he did, she was certain she would have lost her kit to the waters. She was also certain that she should have ended his life when she had the chance, and that letting him live was going to come back and bite her in the flank, but he had rescued her kit when there hadn’t been anyone else to help. Though most lynels wouldn’t have given so much slack, she knew that for saving her kit he had deserved the small mercy and had allowed him to live.

She shook her mane as a cold wind blew in from the east, mussing up the thick fur as it howled through the pines. The kit shivered as it kissed their exposed skin, whimpering as the chill interrupted their sleep, and she didn’t hesitate to get up and cover the tiny den with her lower body. Her internal fire and thick coat ensured that the cold didn’t bother her, but her kit had no such protections, and needed her to keep warm. The kit’s trembling abated as she took a moment to groom herself, cleaning her mane and coat of all the debris collected from a day’s worth of hunting and tracking. She checked the kit over one last time, exposing just enough of the den’s opening to stick her nose inside and scent them, before settling down and finding a comfortable position to rest until morning.

Dawn broke cold and damp, a sure sign that they were closer to winter than to autumn. She stretched lazily as she awoke, almost surprised that a battalion of Zora hadn’t advanced on them as they slept. She hefted herself to her feet as quietly as she could, so as to not wake the kit, and stepped outside her den to relieve herself, kicking up earth and pine needles to cover her waste. Since the kit was still asleep, and their den bore no scent of them soiling it during the night, she saw no need to rouse them purposefully and covered the den back up to wait out the moments before they woke for the day. With winter drawing ever closer she needed to start catching prey for the fat reserves that she would use to sustain herself and produce milk for the kit through the cold, snowy season. At the moment they had nothing, and that was thinks to a pair of bachelor lynels that had taken a patch of territory to the east of hers. While neither of them were white-maned, she was technically stronger than both of them, but with their superior numbers it wouldn’t have been that hard for them to overpower her. She knew what they would do if that happened, and though it was below her rank to do so, she abandoned her territory, her den, all the prey she’d been collecting for winter, and moved her kit to keep them safe. She hoped that the relocation would be temporary; with any luck the pairing wouldn’t last past the spring rut when their raging hormones would eventually cause a brutal fight to the death, and they would be able to return.

She was pulled from her thoughts as she felt the kit stir against her belly, and she shifted onto one of her flanks to expose the opening. A moment later their head of gold fur poked out into the chilly autumn air, cautiously scanning the immediate area. It was evident that they still weren’t over their scare from the day before, and when they crawled out to relieve themselves and rushed back to her after a matter of moments, she knew that they wouldn’t be straying far from her for a while. She chuffed at them as they clutched at her mane, offering as much comfort as she could, and ran her tongue through their golden fur to try and soothe away their upset. She had already planned to keep her kit close for a few days to ease her own mind, but it seemed the kit was going to do so voluntarily. Which was just as well; this wasn’t her first kit, and she knew from experience that kits tended to act out less when they wanted the same things she did.

They allowed her to groom them for a few more minutes, and let her know it was enough by ducking away from her mouth and pushing her muzzle away when she went in for the next stroke. She could still feel the tension radiating off their tiny body, however, and allowed a purr to rumble through her. It never failed to relax the kit, and was the only thing that could settle them down when they had too much energy to go to sleep, and she could sense the almost instantaneous effect it had on them as they went boneless against her. They stayed that way for a few hours more, just basking in and taking reassurance from each other, until the kit’s stomach rumbled to indicate they were hungry.

She pulled the kit into her arms as she stood, and the kit whined when it thought she was going to set them down on the ground. She quietly chuffed at them to calm them, and slowly moved the kit to where it could sit on her back. For a moment the kit fought her, whimpering as they struggled to stay in contact, but they started cooperating instead when they figured out what was going on, and tucked themselves into the curve of her spine. They held still as she took a long swath of cloth from their supplies and wrapped it around her lower torso, securing the kit in place. Once she made sure that the kit wasn’t going to slip, she stood and made her way south into her territory. It didn’t take her long to catch the scent of a deer, and even less time to pick up on its trail. Soon she had it in her sights as it grazed on a patch of sweet clover, and within minutes she was pouncing on it, tearing at the meat of its throat with her teeth. She let out a thunderous roar as it twitched in her grasp to let all who could hear her know that with the blood of the first kill she had officially laid claim to the land around her. Satisfied with the excursion, she tossed the doe over her shoulder and turned back for the den, pausing to pick up a spear on the path that had to have been left behind by the red Zora. It was made of a silver metal that gleamed in the morning sun, and weighed surprisingly little as she turned it over in her hands. The design possessed a delicacy and beauty that spoke of masterful craftsmanship but belied its deadliness as a test of the edge proved it to be razor sharp. It seemed to be about the right size for the red Zora, meaning it was far too small for her if she wanted to use it as a weapon, but it would serve the purposes of skinning the deer wonderfully.

The kit wriggled free as she stepped into the den and tucked her legs underneath her, eyeing the deer with not a little suspicion, and she waited to see what they would do. Normally when she brought back prey they would disappear into the woods and would only come back when they thought she was done, usually bearing a load of mushrooms and fruit. It was a peculiar behavior that she was certain was tied to what had happened to them before they were together, on that rainy night all those moons ago. She didn’t know exactly what had occurred, and likely never would, but she was sure that it had to have been brutal and bloody for them to have such a strong instinct to avoid the sight. Though they grew less and less adverse with each passing season, she knew they would probably never be rid of the aversion completely; the negative association had been made when the kit had been small, unable to recognize and understand that it was just that, and would only grow harder to break as the years wore on.

For a moment the kit hesitated, unable to decide what to do, but eventually they made themselves small at her side as the need to stay close to her outweighed the urge to go somewhere else, albeit with their back to the carcass. She knew it couldn’t have been easy for them to willingly settle down so close, and chuffed at them to offer some reassurance. She was quick and efficient as she skinned the deer with the Zora spear, for her kit’s sake, the motions a second nature to her. Soon she had separated the pelt from the flesh, and she carefully set it aside so she could see to preserving it later. Next she opened the torso and abdomen to get at the organ meat, removing them from the body cavity and piling them up on the underside of the pelt to be dealt with in a moment, though she couldn’t help but grabbing a quick snack when she got to the heart. The hooves were removedand tossed aside along with the head, and one haunch was separated from the body to be prepared for the kit. The rest was sent down her maw in great bites that she tore from the carcass, bones and all, and though the meat felt good as it sat warm in her belly she knew that it was only the first deer in a string of many that she would need to get them through the winter.

Morning bled into afternoon as she set the remaining flank up to cook, breathing fire onto kindling in a small pit lined with smooth stones and using the spear to position the meat over it. As the meat cooked she dealt with the organs, removing the inedible contents so she could eat the remainder, gnawing on the chewy flesh like cattle chewed its cud. Eventually the scent of the meat broke through to the kit, and they turned around to watch the cooking process with all the single-minded focus of a lynel on the hunt. To say her kit was food-driven was an understatement; never in all her time in the pursuit of motherhood had she ever come across a kit so willing to work themselves to exhaustion for a bit of food as a reward. It went doubly so if it was something they favored or had never tasted before, but at the same time their world halted in its tracks if they got hungry and wouldn’t start moving again until their belly was filled.

By the time the meat was done the kit was practically vibrating where they sat, and she knew it was only experience that kept them from tearing straight into meat right off the fire and scalding their mouth. They knew they had to let it cool some or else they wouldn’t be able to taste anything while the burns to their tongue healed, which for someone as motivated by food as her kit qualified as a world-ending catastrophe. Their enthusiasm seemed to wane as they finally got their meal in front of them, and as she watched them eat they were uncharacteristically apathetic in the endeavor. Though they ate no less than they normally did, it took them nearly twice as long to do so and there was a peculiar look on their face as they pushed the rest of the meat away that she couldn’t quite puzzle out. It wasn’t one of unhappiness or upset, but it was as if there was something off-kilter in the kit’s world and they couldn’t figure out what.

Once she was sure that the kit was finished she swallowed the remaining flank in a few quick bites so that it wasn’t wasted and set about preserving the hide. She kept an eye on the kit as she worked, and noted the way that they lingered at her side and the listless, lethargic look on their face. She knew from the height of the sun in the sky that the kit was approaching time for their afternoon nap, and the way it normally played out was that they would continue going full tilt until they crashed as if they’d struck a wall. Now, though, it didn’t appear as if they had the energy to do much more than crawl inside their den at her gentle prodding, and she was surprised to find them already asleep before she’d even stood up to move away.

She kept an eye on the kit as they slept, unwilling to leave the den and risk being away if they woke, and she noted the fitful, uneasy way they tossed and turned. A seed of worry planted itself in her gut as they slept through the rest of the day, only rousing long enough to swallow a few pitiful bites of dinner and submit to her grooming, and she could feel its roots take hold when she pressed her nose to the back of their neck and registered the unnatural heat coming off of them.

By the next day they were eating even less and throwing up every time they did so, and by nightfall a wet, nasty cough had lodged itself in the kit’s chest and though it occasionally produced clumps of yellow bile it still persisted through the night and into the day. Their fever only seemed to climb higher and higher, contrasted even more sharply by the declining temperatures, and it was then, three days after the initial fall into the river, that the kit wouldn’t wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter and everything after it almost didn't happen! My laptop updated as I was working and destroyed three to five pages of work, starting where dawn breaks and going through where the deer is being cooked. The only reason I was able to recover and keep going is because they were all written in one lightning-strike of inspiration that allowed me to condense weeks worth of work into a couple hours and were still fresh in my head when I was finally able to get back into the original document.
> 
> Comment and kudos to offer thanks to Muses for keeping this fic alive and well!


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